


Free Pass

by Detochkina



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Dirty Talk, F/F, F/M, Guilt, M/M, People Living in Denial, Pining, Secrets, Secrets Revealed, Tons of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:31:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detochkina/pseuds/Detochkina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started out as a silly game with friends, one that wasn't meant to have any consequences. Of course, it did. Things come to light that probably should've been resolved a long time ago. </p><p>  <i>...when something crinkles under her fingers while she folds Arthur’s jeans, she reaches for it without a thought. There’s a piece of paper she recognizes as soon as she pulls it out. Something short was written on it -- just one word, most likely -- but has since been thoroughly blacked out with a lot of ink. She brings it closer to the light, turning this way and that way, trying to decipher what’s hidden underneath, but it remains a secret still.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Free Pass

**Author's Note:**

> I should have been writing something else entirely, but then Tavern Tales comm happened and I had an idea that wouldn't go away.  
> The prompt was: "First Time, Last Time, That One Time." I ran with it. Thank you to my beta [sleepyvalentina](../../users/sleepyvalentina/pseuds/sleepyvalentina) to my britpicker [childliketendencies](../../users/childliketendencies/pseuds/childliketendencies), and to [EBS](http://emergencybeta.com/), Deb and M for support.  
> Also thank you to the ladies behind the [ Tavern Tales](http://tavern-tales.livejournal.com/), you've been a stellar support!

 

~*~

Arthur’s too inebriated, snoring lightly in their bed and still fully clothed, and Gwen pulls his trainers and jeans off, muttering about having plans for tonight that clearly went to rubbish. Arthur’s response is turn to his side and snuggle into his pillow. Well, it's her and her hand again tonight. Bloody lovely.

She doesn’t have the habit of going through her husband's things or the pockets of his trousers, but when something crinkles under her fingers while she folds Arthur’s jeans, she reaches for it without a thought. There’s a piece of paper she recognizes as soon as she pulls it out. Something short was written on it -- just one word, most likely -- but has since been thoroughly blacked out with a lot of ink. She brings it closer to the light, turning this way and that way, trying to decipher what’s hidden underneath, but it remains a secret still. 

~*~

“We’ve been friends for too long to keep good things like that from each other,” Elena announces and shakes the hat in front of them. “Now, go on and dream a little.”

“I always dream big.” Gwaine scribbles something on a small square of paper, folds it, and tosses it into the hat.

“Of big tits, more like.” Elena shakes hers in front of Gwaine’s face. Everyone laughs.

“Nah-ah, you can’t read that!” Gwaine stops Elena’s hand from inconspicuously creeping into the hat while everyone’s distracted. “Not until you make sure everyone’s in it. ”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh please, like I don’t know who your big crush is.”

“You’d be surprised.” He pats his hand over his heart and sighs dramatically.

“As long as it spices things up in the bedroom, love.” She blows him a kiss.

“What if it’s Chuck Norris?” Leon asks.

“Nah, it's Becks. He’s been arse over tits for him as long as I can remember,” Percy says, dropping his piece of paper into the hat.

“That doesn’t bother me.” Elena holds the hat towards a giggling Vivian to slip in the name of her ultimate fantasy. “Why do you think I married the git? We found something...errr… some _one_ in common.” She winks at Gwaine.

“Sweetheart.” Leaning forward, Gwaine takes Elena’s free hand and kisses her palm. “I will never _ever_ stand between you and your true love David. Free pass of all free passes.”

“Boom! Best husband of the year,” Merlin says, and everyone laughs again.

“I’m very curious to find out who’s _your_ free pass, Merlin,” Gwaine says, slapping Merlin’s shoulder.

“Not married, so, technically, I don’t have to participate,” Merlin argues without heart.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have the hots for someone unobtainable, just like the rest of us.”

When Merlin doesn't reply, Gilli says, “Why fancy anyone else when he has me?”

“Because you’re such a brilliant catch,” Arthur mutters from his spot, his face hidden in the shadow behind the floor lamp. The amber liquid gleams in his raised glass every time he tips it to his mouth.

He switched to hard liquor when Elena announced the rules of the game -- Gwen noticed. Being a designated driver tonight, Gwen has nothing to do but sip on her watered-down wine whilst watching her friends get pissed and make berks out of themselves all evening. It was quite entertaining, actually.

“I’m the friend with benefits on short notice.” Gilli laughs. “It doesn’t get better than that.”

Gwen catches frowning Merlin holding his eyes on Arthur and immediately dropping his head when he see her staring.

“Excuse me,” Arthur says, rousing up. He leaves his glass on the chair.

“Arthur.” Gwen hooks her finger over his pinky, stopping him.

“Loo,” he says quietly, looking down at his wife. “Be back in a minute.”

“You better, we’re about to start,” Elena says and smiles at Gwen expectantly with the hat in her extended hand.

Gwen bites her lip, glancing at Arthur’s retreating figure, and decides what the hell, it’s only a game. She scribbles the name and drops it in.

The real entertainment begins when Elena starts pulling random names out of the hat and reads them out loud. The group launches into a heated, loud debate of who wrote what. Turns out, there are a few well-kept secrets there left.

They find out that Elena would shag Jeremy Renner if only she had a free pass. Because the bloke is not only fit, can act and sing, he also knows how to apply makeup and fix a house, which Gwaine, decidedly, cannot achieve to save his life.

“That’s true.” Gwaine holds his hands up, laughing. “You have me there.”

This doesn’t faze him, and on the same breath, he fesses up to always liking Victoria Beckham. He even admits to have spent a summer trying to meet her back in 1997 at the height of her _Spice Girls_ career. When everyone whistles and questions his loyalty to “golden balls”, he shrugs and says, “At least I’m keeping it in the family.”

Gwen’s heart keeps somersaulting, sprinting up her throat then dropping all the way to her knees, while she waits for the name she’s written to be called out. She berates herself for the umpteenth time for the moment of foolish honesty. The moment inevitably comes, and she confesses to have a crush on her history professor in uni -- a person with the wickedest smile, most gorgeous green eyes, and infectious love for Welsh myths.

What Gwen doesn’t confess is that said professor has recently moved back to town and they bumped into each other last month. And ever since then, she can’t get their brief but warm conversation out of her head. Her head’s been swimming with all sort of impossible, stupid things, and some of them quite persistent. Nothing overly naughty -- Gwen could never -- she’s married and, well... No, it’s out of the question.

But, buggering hell, now that the free-pass idea is being so enthusiastically discussed among her friends, like it can be something real, it’s hard not to fantasize, even if not in great detail... She’s been touch-starved, more than a little frustrated, and has no one to admit it to. It’s been weeks since she and Arthur... Arthur, who’s barely paid her any attention all evening, preferring to stare at whatever alcoholic beverage is cast in his hand instead.

When Gwen reveals the name of her crush, Arthur leans forward, the light reflecting brightly on his blond hair and his broad shoulders in the blue pullover, and sets on her the kind of measuring look he has when he’s presented with a new information requiring mulling over. In true fashion, he doesn’t show a great deal of emotion while everyone else is catcalling, nor does he comment on his wife’s revelation.

It’s just a game, and still there’s no possible way to hide the sudden hot blush creeping up her neck and face and the breathy hitch in her voice while she manages, “Oh, stop... Like you lot are any better... I was young and really confused.”

“I personally think it’s hot,” Gwaine comments, grinning. “I’m sure, Arthur agrees. Don’t you, mate?”

Arthur doesn’t smile, just keeps a heavy-lidded gaze on his wife and lets her suffer through the relentless teasing. The opportunity to make it into a lighthearted joke has come and gone. She just hopes everyone’s pissed enough they won't remember this ever happened after this evening. Especially Arthur.

Her confession is forgotten as soon as it comes to light that Percy has a thing for older women. It says so on the paper: _the older woman_. He owns up to writing it, but no matter how much they taunt him, he doesn’t give up the name.

“Is there a particular woman you’re into?” Gilli asks, his smile dripping with salaciousness.

“He did say ‘ _the_ woman’, didn’t he?” Gwaine provides helpfully, a glint in his eye suggesting he has a clue. For once, Percy's glower reduces him to silence.

“You wankers don’t know how to take a joke,” he mumbles.

“You were supposed to have a real name there, mate. That's the rule,” Gilli argues.

“Molly Hopper isn’t real.” Gwaine guffaws and pats Gilli’s head.

Gilli pushes him off the sofa to the floor, and Gwaine tumbles down with a drunken snicker. His limbs prove uncooperative as he tries to get up and falls to the side. With a sigh, he folds his hands under his head and closes his eyes. And just like that -- Gwaine’s out.

“Real or not, you come like a rocket when you think about her, Sherlock,” Merlin mutters to Gilli with his head on the back of the sofa and his eyes closed. He looks a little green.

Gwen suspects no one was supposed hear that.

Gilli sputters. “How do you know?”

Merlin opens one eye to look at him. “We share the wall, don’t we? I have ears.”

“And oh, do you have them ears!” Gilli’s loud laugh resembles a bray of a donkey.

Merlin winces. Gwaine smacks his lips in his sleep and shifts on the floor, finding more comfortable position and ending up with his arse right on Gilli’s feet.

If this is Giili’s way to be chummy, it falls flat spectacularly. Everyone hears _that_. Everyone turns to him, and no one’s laughing. Mocking Merlin's majestic ears is like taking the piss out of a unicorn’s horn. Basically, it’s illegal.

“He’s also been paying your rent for the last two years,” Arthur speaks up, the expression on his face staying in the shadow as grim as his voice. “Which Molly Hopper most decidedly hasn’t.”

“Imagine that.” Merlin sighs and stumbles to his feet. “Whatever. I think it’s time to go home.”

With a wave goodbye, he leaves, Gilli trailing after him. The rest leave the flat in a slow trickle.

Elena tries to wake Gwaine up to no avail. Gwen and she pull him up onto the sofa, and Elena suggests they just leave him be there, he’s useless tonight anyway. She winks. “You know…”

Gwen glances down at her hands without answering. Why does she have to blush even now? She’s a grown woman, for pete’s sake.

Elena trails her eyes from Arthur, who just walked into the room, his hair and face wet, to Gwen, and shakes her head with a smile. She goes on to collect the empty bottles and cups, picks up the hat from the floor, then she stops abruptly.

“Wait! Arthur, I don’t think--”

“Gwen, it’s late.” Arthur walks across the room, moving unsteady, but with a clear intent. “Elena, thank you, we’ll be going now.”

Gwen gives her an apologetic smile. “We’ll see you later, El, yeah? Thanks for having us.”

Elena shrugs and smiles.

~*~

Gwen has her evening routine down to science: quick shower, brush teeth and hair, put on a night cream. Face. Neck. Hands. Elbows. At thirty-two, she knows the value of a good moisturiser. Already in her night slip, she rubs the last of the cream into her hands as she steps out of the bathroom, a soft smile ready on her face. Arthur sits on the corner of the bed still in his work suit, his elbows on his knees and his tie hanging off his fingers. His hair’s ruffled into a mess. Gwen used to find this dishevelled look beyond adorable. He’s no longer that carefree boy she fell in love with, and his smile doesn’t blind her senseless anymore -- _when_ he smiles, that is. But after nearly five years, isn’t it normal for a romance to fizzle out a little?

Gwaine and Elena are still into each other, handsy and flirty, constantly bickering about something or other. They fight and make up nonstop. Gwen misses that, although, truth be told, Arthur and she have never really fought. Arthur reckons it’s beneath them -- for civilised, mature people to argue over petty stuff like unwashed dishes or the light left on in the bathroom. And maybe he’s right, but this is what life consists of for the rest of the world, isn’t it? Dirty socks left in unlikely places, lost telly remotes, forgotten unpaid bills, noisy, insensitive in-laws.

Are they that much different?

“You’re beat,” she says, pulling the tie out of Arthur’s hands. “Heat you up something?”

Arthur shakes his head. “No.Too knackered.”

He rises to his feet and kisses her on the forehead. “Go to bed. I’ll turn in soon.”

~*~

They stay silent for a while, their backs to each other under separate blankets. Arthur always complains about being too hot when they share, so they made a habit not to.

"Should we talk about it?" He turns and places a tentative hand on Gwen's back.

It's the first hint of affection she's received in so long, she can't help but lean right into it.

She looks at him over her shoulder. "Talk about what?"

"About what you really want but won’t ever tell me."

"You never ask."

"I'm asking now."

Gwen sincerely hopes it's not too late.

She turns over to face him. "I miss _us_ , Arthur. We used to be good together, didn’t we? What happened to us?"

He doesn't answer for a very long time. "I'm not sure."

"Do you still want me?" she asks, reaching to touch his face.

"Oh, sweetheart. Of course I do." He squeezes her hip through the blanket. “I love you.”

"I know, but those are two different things, aren't they? It's been so long, Arthur."

"I'm sorry. I know, this trial is sucking the life out of me." He strokes his hand over the curve of her hip and glides it up her naked arm with a gentleness that sends goosebumps across her skin. "I'm sorry," he murmurs again.

Moving down her shoulder, his fingers make a short stop to brush between her collarbones before sliding lower. When he circles a fingertip over her nipple, it pebbles instantly under the touch. Her breath hitches.

Arthur smiles. "I forget how sensitive you are."

 _You should do this more often then_ , she doesn't say.

"Tell me," he whispers, his eyes intent on her, his mouth staying parted.

"Tell you what?" She arches into his touch.

"About your crush on Morgana."

Gwen freezes.

"It's okay. I want to hear it. Please." He passes another exploring caress over the swell of her breast and tight nipple.

Her insides are twisting, thoughts conflicted. Wanting, appalled.

She doesn’t find her voice right away.

"Does it turn you on?" she asks, and recognises a flicker of emotion on his face for something completely different than what she's suggesting. Arthur is not jealous. He cares, but not at all in the way she expects. She isn't sure how she feels about this revelation.

"It turns _you_ on,” he says. “You think about her, don't you?"

"No, I--"

"When you touch yourself, you think of her."

"Arthur--"

"Her hands..." He pushes his hand under her blanket and hikes up her gown, stopping at the top of her hip. "Her tongue." He leans in and lightly presses his mouth to hers while his finger trails down to the apex of her thighs. Her mouth goes dry.

Her mind whirls with shame while her body responds with almost violent desire. An ache rolls down her belly, the spasm between her legs is on the verge of painful. She loves what she’s hearing; she loathes how much she loves it.

“Tell me,” he insists with another light kiss and a brush.

She swallows and squeezes her eyes. Her face feels hot, blood’s pounding in her ears.

“No,” she chokes out. “No, it’s… I can’t.”

“Why?” He flicks his tongue over her lower lip at the same time as he flicks his finger down below.

She leans her head away and presses her thighs together. “Please stop.”

Arthur stills.

“I’m sorry.” He sits upright and rubs his face. “Christ.”

“No, I know.” She pulls herself up and presses her back to the headboard of the bed. The cold wood seeps through the thin fabric of her slip, reaching deep into her bones.

He throws his blanket off and lowers his feet to the floor. They stay like this for so long, Gwen starts shivering. She isn’t sure what to say, what to offer, if she should offer anything at all. She isn’t sure if she’s mad at Arthur or still just confused. If any of this is okay. Is this the new level of dirty talk she just needs to get used to if that’s what Arthur wants. Does _she_ want this?

"What if,” Arthur finally speaks, his strangled voice startling her. ”What if I told you to go ahead?”

She rubs her mouth, frowning. “What?”

He glances over his shoulder at her, then shakes his head. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“Arthur.”

His next, “ _Never mind_ ,” is smothered, muted by his hands folded at his mouth.

“Jesus, Arthur!” She heaves with exasperation. “Can you, _once_ , just…What’s going on in your head?”

“Okay.” He hikes up one leg onto the bed and leans on one arm. “I want to give you a free pass, all right? You can have it.”

“What? How can you even joke like this?”

“I don’t think I am. I think you should do it. With Morgana if you want.”

“With Mor--” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath through her nose, waiting for the sudden whooshing of blood in her head to stop. “Fuck you, Arthur. All right? Just… Fuck you,” she tells him. Because yes. Fuck him. How dare he.

“Gwen, listen--”

He tries to grab her wrist, but she yanks it away.

“I _don’t_ want to listen. You’re off your trolley completely.”

“I saw you!” he bellows, and pushes himself off the bed. “I saw you together!”

“What are you talking about?” she screams in response. “Nothing ever--”

“It didn’t have to! You were standing on the street close to each other. She was touching your wrist, saying something. The way she looked at you… Christ, Gwen, you should’ve seen _your_ face.”

“That’s bollocks!” Gwen gets out of the bed, too, and starts pacing. “What is this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you saw us? All this time, you’ve been thinking the worst of me.”

“No.” Arthur shakes his head. “No, I haven’t.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know. It looked like you didn’t want to be anywhere else. I’ve never seen you smile like that.”

“I’m _human_ , Arthur. I want affection. And you know what? I do want a good fuck once in a while. And yes, maybe I did have some… I don’t know… _untoward_ thoughts about my former professor. Maybe I do find her smart and gorgeous and entirely hot. So what?” Gwen looks at Arthur, at his frozen figure framed by the window behind him. His hands pushed under his armpits. “God…” she gasps. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to--”

“No, that’s… That’s fine,” he says slowly, shifting on his feet. “You’re honest. That’s... good.”

She laughs bitterly. “You can always count on that, can’t you? Something you can’t say about yourself.”

“Myse--” Arthur takes a step forward. “I’ve never lied to you! I never give you a reason to--”

Gwen gestures at him to stop. “Then if I ask you something right now, would you tell me the absolute truth?”

Arthur doesn’t answer right away. His voice is scratchy when he does, but firm. “Yes. I promise.”

Gwen goes into the closet and pulls Arthur’s jeans from the shelf. She hands them to Arthur. “In the back pocket,” she says.

He doesn’t move, and she nudges his hands. “You promised.”

With his eyes on her, he slowly unfolds his jeans and digs through the back pockets.

Gwen purses her lips, waiting. With the familiar piece of paper between his fingers, he drops the jeans on the bed.

Gwen nods. “Open it.”

Arthur does so reluctantly.

“That’s your free pass, Arthur, isn’t it? We both know the name, don’t we? I want you to say it.”

Arthur stays silent.

“If you could see _your_ face when you look at him,” she whispers. “Do you know how _he_ looks at you when you don't pay attention?”

Arthur’s throat clicks. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“You think you have these great defences built up around you, and you’re right, they _are_ great -- against me. It’s _me_ you are not letting in. And you let _him_ knock down your every wall. Get inside your armour. For him, you’re wide open.”

Once she starts talking, she can’t stop. All the words, all the hurt and pent-up feelings pour out of her. Maybe she shouldn’t try to stop it. Arthur wanted to talk. They are talking now. At least she has his attention.

“You love me here.” She points to his head. “I know you do. But he’s right here.” She touches Arthur’s chest.

Arthur’s shoulders fold in, away from her touch.

Something comes over her, bold and fiery -- not like her at all. But she needs to see his reaction. He owes it to her. “Do you imagine his hands on you? ” She steps closer to him and watches him take a shuddery breath. “His _tongue_?”

She could touch him the way he's just touched her -- flick her tongue over the flesh of his earlobe exactly how he likes it, press her palm against his crotch -- just to make the same point about his own desires, because she's sure he's getting hard right now from imagining what she's suggesting. But she doesn't have the guts to do it.

She taunts him instead. "Do you?”

Arthur groans, chokes out ragged, “Fuck,” and sits back down on the bed, burying his face into his hands.

“You’ve been in love with him for years. Do you deny it?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing ever happened. I swear.”

“I know. I wouldn’t be here if it did.”

She sits down next to his defeated form. “If I said okay, I’ll do it. I’ll go to Morgana just this one time. And if I gave you _your_ free pass…”

He drops his head between his slouched shoulders. “No. I wouldn’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“I-- “ He looks at her. “I don’t know if I’d be able to walk away after that. Gwen, I’m sorry.”

She should be offended. She should be howling in pain and humiliation. Her husband, her best friend in love with someone else… Has been for too long for them to pretend it’s not real. And it’s all there inside her, of course, thrashing and tearing her apart, but there’s something else, too. Some other underlying emotion that keeps her from going mental, makes the hurt bearable. This _something_ whispers to her that she will be fine. Tells her that they’re done with secrets, and isn’t it the most freeing thing? Her marriage may be well and over, but the world is still intact and turning.

They’ll live.

Arthur clears his throat and says, “So, I-- I’ll go to the couch,”  and pushes himself off the bed.

“No.” She stops him by his arm. “Stay. Just tonight, okay? Please. I’m going to miss you.”

Arthur nods.

He pulls a tee over his head, and she puts her robe on. They slip under the blankets -- under each own, as always -- and lie flat on their backs. She searches for his hand and links their fingers together.

“I’ll need some time before I’d want to talk to you again,” she says. “Not sure how soon.”

“I know.”

“I am not wishing you happily ever after with him,” she says after another stretch of silence. “I can’t.”

He hums. “I do wish that for _you_.”

“That’s good, I deserve it,” she agrees. But when she hears his breathing evened out -- it never took Arthur long, no matter how frazzled he was, she adds, “I’m sorry. You deserve it, too.”

The End


End file.
